My grandfather was such a good listener. I suppose it was nice given I was too much of a talker and even if he had no idea what I was blabbing on about he'd still listen to me. And he cared. So much of my memory is wrapped in childhood which blurs out details and highlights, but my entire tapestry of memory is tied into his kindness. How he'd pick the best grapes from his vines outside the chicken coop to give to me. Or the snap peas. The trips to Canada in the conversion van and the fires outside his house. His calm demeanor and gentle attitude, however still commanding unwavering respect. He was like a deep rooted rock amidst constant tides, unmoved and steady. 

He supported all of his grandchildren's activities. He would come to graduations and games and recitals. He was never much for words but you didn't need them to know he loved you. I wish I could tell him that one more time. 

Thank you Grandpa for showing me, teaching me and listening to me. I wish so badly you could have met Cole, you would absolutely love him. Rest in the most blissful peace.